“Then I’ll be Uncle Nash,” I say with a shrug. “And I’ll see her whenever Mason comes over to my place. Maybe we can take her out on his boat together when she gets a little older. Things like that.”
Aria’s forehead wrinkles. “Really? You would do that?”
“I’d love to do that.” I smile. “As long as that’s okay with you.”
She hesitates, but after a moment, she nods. “That would be nice. And it’s very generous of you, to be open to caring for her and putting her well-being first, before any lingering animosity between the two of us.”
I shift uncomfortably in my dress shoes, regretting the B-word I let fly in the beer tent even more than I did already. “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have started calling names. It won’t happen again.”
“No, it’s fine. I mean…I get it.” Aria fidgets with the cellophane again, before adding in a swift mumble, “I didn’t mean it, either. The stuff about your kiss. I was just caught off guard.”
“Sorry. I should have asked permission first.”
She waves a hand. “No, it’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. I’ll ask next time.”
“Seriously, it’s no big deal.” She rolls her eyes, but her lips curve at the edges. “God, this is weird right? And awkward as hell?”
I laugh. “A little.”
“Acting like we were in love sounded easier when I was drunk.”
I reach out, taking her hand. “Just pretend I’m someone else.”
“What?” Her eyes widen as I step in, closing the distance between us.
“Is this okay?”
“It’s fine,” she murmurs, tilting her head back to meet my gaze. “Who should I pretend you are?”
“I’m sure you have a fantasy guy. Right?” I wrap an arm around her waist, fighting to keep my body under control as her breasts brush against my chest. She’s the wrong woman, but I can’t deny that she feels very right pressed against me.
“A fantasy guy?” She arches a brow. “Like someone famous?”
“Or not. Just whoever you imagine you’re with when you’re in the mood to imagine those sorts of things.”
Aria’s cheeks flush. “Well, this conversation just took a racy turn.”
“Nothing wrong with playing pretend,” I drawl, refusing to let my own imagination get started. Because right now I wouldn’t be imagining anything about anyone except Aria.
Aria in this dress, and …out of this dress.
“I’ll stick with reality for now, thanks.” A smile tugs at her lips. “Like I said, you’re easy on the eyes this morning.”
“Thank you, darlin’.”
“Don’t call me darlin’,” she says in a husky voice that makes my boxer briefs feel tighter than they did before.
“Doll face?”
She wrinkles her nose.
“Sugar britches?” I ask, feeling absurdly proud of myself when she laughs.
“Wow, you’re bad at that,” she teases, her eyes flashing into mine. “I’m going to call you Meaty, in honor of the muscle.”
“And I’ll call you Red.” I bend my head closer to hers, aching for another taste of her in a way that probably isn’t healthy, and certainly isn’t pretend.
“Red and Meaty,” she murmurs. “Sounds like the floor of a slaughter house.”
I grunt. “Then I guess I’ll have to stick with baby, baby,” I say, and then I kiss her, a long, slow kiss that makes my blood rush and my balls ache.
And then, suddenly, I’m hard, so hard I know she’s going to feel it if I don’t put some distance between us.
“Better?” I release her, stepping back fast.
Aria blinks up at me. “Better?”
“The kiss? Better than last night?”
Her gaze drops to the tile floor. “Oh. Yeah. I mean, last night was good, but that…”
“That?” I prompt, though I know I shouldn’t.
I’m not here to flirt with her, I’m here to pretend to be in love with her.
But the lines are already starting to blur. We haven’t even said our fake “I do’s” yet and I’m making stupid decisions. I should get out of here. Now. Before it’s too late. Before I need a lawyer to untangle me from this woman I know I can’t trust.
I’m working up the guts to do it when she lifts her eyes to meet mine and whispers, “Incredible,” and lines no longer seem so important.
We’ll figure out the lines as we go along. And if I need a lawyer, well, maybe a bought lesson will finally teach me not to date—or fake marry—redheads.
Redheads are trouble, I know this, but I’m smiling as I offer this one my hand. “Ready to fake it until we make it?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She slips her slender palm into mine and I lead the way to the licensing department, unable to ignore how right it feels to have my enemy’s hand in mine.
Chapter Eleven
Aria
Thinking is bad.
Dangerous.
Trouble.
I have to stop thinking or I’m not going to make it through the rest of this crazy day without losing my mind.
I refuse to think about the kiss in the courthouse lobby, or the kiss after the wedding ceremony, or the way Nash picked me up and spun me around until I was laughing like a giddy teenager, right in front of the Justice of the Peace and the other couples waiting to get married.